


shiny happy people

by ell (amywaited)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Cute, Existentialism, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Angst, Slashfic, sonia kaspbrak is not a nice lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/ell
Summary: Bev nudges him, shoulder to shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?” She asks, something Eddie thinks she’s picked up from the TV, or her books, but it sounds right in her mouth anyway.Eddie shrugs. “Just thinking.”“Tell me."“Everything feels different,” he says. “It’s not the same as last summer.”
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	shiny happy people

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy!!! 
> 
> title from [shiny happy people](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYOKMUTTDdA) by REM.

Monday morning dawns cold. Grey and cloudy, heavy with the imminent threat of rain. Eddie sits up in his bed and sighs, breathing out into the lilac-white of his bedroom. The sun - what little part of it is visible - shines through the gaps in his blind, casting dark icy beams onto his bed.

He doesn’t want to get up today. But he does, dragging himself out from under his duvet, curling his toes on his carpet, curling his fingers around the hem of his pyjama shirt. Stan and Bill wouldn’t forgive him if he stayed home today, and besides, they have a test in math today. He’d rather not make it up after school tomorrow.

He pulls on a black hoodie, blue jeans that have a rip on the left knee (he didn’t even realise it was there until he stuck his foot through it and nearly stumbled over), and mismatched socks. His mom is probably still asleep - thankfully - so the house is quiet. The silence rings louder than any voice could. Eddie finds he hates it, and leaves half an hour early just to get out of it.

It’s not raining yet, but it’s hanging about in the air. The precipitation sticks to his hair, dampening it just enough to be annoying. The school isn’t far to walk, but he picks up his bike anyway. Maybe one of the Losers will want to cycle around the town looking for things to do with him; Eddie realised long ago that none of them particularly like staying at home.

* * *

The school is, as he expected, mostly empty by the time he arrives. It’s still far too early for anyone in their right mind to push through the gates, but Eddie does anyway, coasting in on his bike, straight into the bike sheds. He forgets his bike lock, but no one ever goes to the bike sheds except him and the other Losers, so he doesn’t worry too much. Sometimes Beverly brings in a second lock, so she’ll lock his bike up for him when everyone else arrives.

Today, though, there’s someone else’s bike already in the spot where he always puts his. He only realises after it’s too late, and he’s already jammed his front wheel into the other bike’s back one and fallen off to the left. He grazes his knee in the gravel, tearing the rip in his jeans even more, and getting lots of tiny stone pinpricks stuck in his palms. 

As if the day could get any better. He hauls himself up and lines his bike up with the space next to his usual one with a reluctant little sigh. He doesn’t recognise the other bike - he’s never seen it before, and he’s never seen anyone else cycle to school. Maybe Bill’ll know, he thinks. Bill is good at knowing all the ins and outs and goings on.

For now, Eddie checks his bike is secure as it could be, brushes the stones from the cut on his knee (it’s bleeding slightly, blood soaking into the jeans), and setting off towards the library. He doesn’t want to be outside if it starts raining properly today.

The school library is one of Eddie’s favourite places in the college, after the second floor history classroom (the one with the working air con and heating fixture - the only classroom where it works properly). The library is always quiet; but the good kind of quiet. Where it feels warm instead of cold, like it’s supposed to be quiet and not just the absence of people talking. Eddie has always liked that kind of quiet.

It’s usually empty too, except for people doing last minute projects or kissing behind the shelves at the back. Empty enough that Eddie can always sit in the seat by the big windows on the west side, and watch all the people come and go.

Except today, there’s someone already there. Watching the people come and go. He supposes it must be the same person who took his spot in the bike sheds - and whilst half of him wants to congratulate the other boy on his good taste, the other half feels irrationally angry about it. Despite the fact that he knows the other had no idea that those places had begun to belong to Eddie.

Julie who works the desk is just now pulling her coat off, and she smiles at him when he stops by. She puts her mug on the desk and smiles at him, wishing him a good morning that he can always hear even if it’s never spoken. She doesn’t speak much, and neither does he, but they get along just fine. On Fridays, sometimes she’ll bring him granola bars, or little chocolate candies. 

Eddie smiles back, pushing his glasses up his nose. There’s the little display with the newest book they have in, and he rakes his eyes over it. One he’s never seen before, but it doesn’t catch his fancy. He doesn’t remember the last time he checked a book out, but it doesn’t stop him looking.

He breathes out carefully, heading over to his seat by the window. The bench ought to be big enough for two people, but he’s not fully sure that he wants to sit with the other boy. Whatever it is, watching the boy sends his heart beating hard and fast all of a sudden. He’s not quite sure he likes it, and all of a sudden wishes that he had stayed at home, that maybe Beverly, or Stan or Bill were here with him, and maybe he’d never have seen the boy but then it’s too late and their eyes are locking together.

Eddie feels his spine shiver, tingles running down to his toes. He can’t drag his gaze away. He finds his legs moving without him realising, and then he’s staring down at the boy and he’s staring up and time sort of slows down for a while.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, sounding too hard like he’s trying to be cool to his own ears, but maybe not to others.

The boy shakes his head no. Eddie thinks he’s never seen him around before, but there’s something familiar about him. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He’s never said this many words to someone who isn’t a Loser before - it’s no secret that he doesn’t like to talk much and he’s beginning to think that this boy might be the same way.

He’s holding a book, Eddie realises. It’s worn and tattered, and he’s flicking his fingers through the pages idly. Like he’s not really reading it, or maybe he’s read it too much. Eddie sees what looks like a handwritten note in the corner of the back page, but he can’t make it the words. It just gives him more questions, little thoughts sprouting up here and there.

“What book is that?” Eddie asks, even though everything in him is screaming not to. The boy lifts the book to show him the cover.  _ Neuromancer  _ by  _ William Gibson.  _ Eddie thinks he has a copy at home, but it doesn’t look as old as this one, and he’s never actually read it.

“It’s my favourite,” the boy says, quietly. Like he’s not supposed to say. 

“I’ve never read it,” Eddie says. “Is it your bike in the bike sheds?”

The boy nods. “I saw you put yours in. You fell over.”

His words send a sharp memory of pain through the graze on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah. I normally put my bike in that spot, so I wasn’t paying attention,” he says, feeling like he should explain. Something about his eyes on Eddie makes him feel hot all over.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m Richie.”

“Are you new?”

“Not really. I just don’t spend much time hanging around,” Richie says. “You won’t have seen me before.”

“Oh. My name’s Eddie. How come you don’t spend much time around?” Eddie says. Something about Richie makes him curious, makes his heart beat harder. He finds he wants to know everything there is to know about Richie, and he’s not quite sure why or where the thought even came from. He certainly doesn’t remember thinking it. 

Richie shrugs. “I just don’t.”

“Oh. You should eat lunch with me and my friends today. If you want,” Eddie offers, “You don’t look like you have many friends.”

Richie chuckles, low and under his breath. His cheeks flush pale pink, across the bridge of his nose, half hidden under his glasses. “Maybe.”

Somehow, Eddie knows that that means not today. He tries not to let himself be disappointed about it. He’s never met this boy before, and besides, he has friends. He has Bill and Stan and Ben and Beverly, and Mike on the weekends. 

He’ll be fine without Richie, at least for the moment. Something deep and dark, hidden underneath his heart, wonders whether Richie will be fine without him.

* * *

The morning passes quickly. He fails the math test, because algebra is not his strong suit. It’s Bill’s, and he knows he’ll have to ask him for study help. But the rest of it - a practical chemistry lesson and an English class studying a Shakespeare play - are both things he’s pretty confident in, and they end by the time he blinks. 

Stan waits for him outside the English classroom, and they walk to the cafeteria together. Stan doesn’t say much, so neither does Eddie, but that’s how they are. In their own little pocket of quiet.

“I met a guy this morning,” Eddie says. He’s not sure why. Stan hums noncommittally.

“Who was it?”

“Some guy named Richie. He was in the library when I got there,” Eddie says. “Have you ever seen him before?”

Stan shrugs. “Maybe. Is his bike the one in your spot in the sheds?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s got a shit bike. It’s muddy as all hell,” Stan says. “Bev put a lock round yours, by the way.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Eddie says. He pushes open the cafeteria doors. Bill and Ben are both already seated at their table, and Beverly is standing in the food line. He leads Stan over to the table, dropping into the empty one next Ben. Stan takes the one next to Bill, where he usually goes. 

Bev appears soon after, dropping a packet of grapes onto the table with a dissatisfied sigh. She sits next to Eddie, tapping out all of her energy through her fingers on the table top.

“Thanks for locking up my bike, Bev,” Eddie says, mostly to her but loud enough for everyone else to hear. 

“Y-y-you should start b-bring your own lock, Eddie,” Bill says. He reaches over to nab Beverly’s grapes, pulling the packet open and fishing one out.

“You’re welcome, Eds,” Bev says. She lets Bill take the grapes without a second glance.

“I don’t have one,” Eddie says. “I lost my old one, and I haven’t gotten a new one yet. But it’s fine. The bikesheds are usually empty except for us.”

“It’s only fine until your bike gets stolen,” she says, matter-of-factly. “But lucky for you, I plan ahead.”

Eddie flushes. “Thank you, Bev.”

“Do you know who that other bike belonged to?” Ben asks. “The one in Eddie’s spot.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah. This guy named Richie - I was telling Stan. Have any of you ever heard of him?”

Bill is the only one who nods. “Richie Tozier, p-p-probably. My mom was talking ab-b-bout it. Apparently they moved away when Richie was like, three, buh-b-but they’ve only just come back into town. I’ve never muh-met him though. From wuh-w-what she said, he seems a bit… troubled.”

“Aren’t we all?” Stan says, leaning into Bill’s side like he thinks none of them will notice.

“All what?” Ben asks.

“Troubled,” Stan says. Eddie entertains the thought that, yes, he’s probably right.

Bev scoffs. “So what? You should have invited him to eat lunch with us, Eddie.”

“I did. He said maybe,” Eddie says. “If I see him again tomorrow, I’ll ask him again. He looks quite lonely, doesn’t he?”

Bill nods, his lips twisting up into a sympathetic looking smile. “Yeah. Wuh-we ought to look after him. He seems l-l-like he’ll get in trouble easily.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Beverly says. “He’ll fit right in with us, don’t you think?”

“I guess so,” Eddie says. In all honesty, thinking about Richie makes his toes curl. He’s torn between wanting to see him every day and never wanting to see him again. He feels like he knows everything there is to know about Richie already, despite being completely in the dark when it comes to him. It makes his stomach turn.

Beverly seems to notice. She takes his hand under the table, squeezing tightly. “Can I come over after school?”

Bill and Stan split off into their own conversation, Ben listening in. Eddie nods at Bev. “Yeah, I guess. My mom’ll probably be there though, so you’ll have to be careful.”

She brushes it off. “That’s okay. We’ll go down to the arcade, or something, instead.”

Eddie tries not to let his stomach come up through his mouth at the thought of, A) not telling his mother where he’s going - he doubts he’ll have time to go home and then back to the arcade, and B) actually going to the arcade. It’s one of the places where his anxiety-riddled brain had refused to let him step before.

Beverly doesn’t notice his discomfort this time, but he knows that she won’t push him if he says so. But it’ll be fine. He’ll have to get past this barrier some day, he knows. He has wipes and anti-bacterial hand gel in his backpack, if things get too bad. Old habits die hard, he supposes. Perhaps his mother has been a bigger influence than he realised. 

* * *

It’s not until last period that he realises that Richie is, actually, in this class with him. He’s not sure if he never noticed him before or this is the first time he’s actually been present, but Eddie can’t tear his eyes off of him regardless.

He’s sitting one row in front and one seat to the left, perfectly in line of sight for Eddie to stare and pretend to be looking at the board instead. Perhaps the stars are on his side for today. He gets to rove his eyes over the curls in the back of Richie’s hair, map out the creases in his shirt and the soft curve of his lower back that he can just about see underneath his shirt.

Eddie barely knows Richie and already he feels absolutely enthralled in him, caught up and tangled in his web. He decides he doesn’t particularly care. Watching the wind blow through Richie’s curls is far more interesting than learning about the Great War. (Watching Richie learn, however, is another experience entirely. Eddie is almost hypnotised in the way he spins a pencil through his fingers, and the way he pushes his glasses up every time he doesn’t quite get something).

He leaves the class feeling like he knows Richie better than he knows himself, and he’s barely learnt a thing. 

Beverly is waiting at the school gates, balancing both of their bikes either side of her. Eddie has no idea how she managed to get them from the bike sheds round to the gates alone, given that Ben has Orchestra after school and Bill and Stan both joined the chess club so no one was around to help her. He puts it down to just another Beverly Thing - which there are rather a lot of, because she cuts a very intriguing figure.

“Eddie, hey!” She calls, waving wildly. Her hair gives her an orange-y halo, and the rain from this morning has cleared up into late afternoon sun. 

She’s arguably too good for the Losers, Eddie thinks, and he knows he’s not alone in thought. Ben would agree with him in a heartbeat. But she sticks with them, regardless, and Eddie is all the more grateful for it. 

“Are you ready?” she asks, unloading his bike into his hands. Eddie nods, so they wheel their bikes to the main road together, because they’re technically not supposed to ride on school property. Bev mounts hers as soon as they get through the final gate. Eddie waits until he’s at the curb. 

Today, Eddie doesn’t feel much like speaking. He’s afraid that he’ll open up his mouth and be sick - the thought of going out to the arcade without his mom’s permission makes his stomach roll. He wouldn’t have anything to say, anyway. 

Beverly seems to understand that. She doesn’t ask him to talk, and she doesn’t speak either, so they ride in a silence that settles heavily over him. 

She doesn’t ask if he’s okay until they get there, where she rides right onto the curb and down the alleyway beside the building. It’s where they keep their bikes, whenever they’re here, but just stepping foot in it makes Eddie’s heart jump up. Bev is far more observant than he gives her credit for, because she takes his hand like she needs it and he doesn’t, and doesn’t let go till they’re through the doors. 

“Today was hard, huh?” She says. She’s not talking to him, not talking to anyone, but he hums in answer anyway. 

“Yeah.”

“D’you want to go home?” she asks. Her fingers jab at the buttons on the machine. It’s playing a game Eddie hasn’t seen before, but she’s good at it. 

“Not yet,” Eddie says. Bev looks like she understands. She probably does. “Meeting Richie today threw me off, I guess. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Beverly hums. “Yeah. I know how that feels.”

Eddie thinks Beverly has more wrong sides to her bed than right sides. She’s turned out alright though. He watches the neon video game colours paint across her face, and thinks that she is the marshmallows holding their spaghetti sticks together.

* * *

They stay out far too late, but Eddie feels so much better for it. Bev bought him a milkshake at the diner down the road, and he got two straws because he knows what she’s like. It was good that he did because she ends up drinking more of it than he does. Not that Eddie minds - his mom has branded the inside of his brain with calorie counts and fat percentages, and as much as he hates it, he can’t look past it.

Bev doesn’t notice his reluctance. Or maybe she does, and is waiting for him to talk about it. She probably knows that he won’t. She is okay with that, thank God. If it were Bill, he’d be trying his best to pull it out of him. With good intentions, obviously. Bill couldn’t do anything maliciously if he tried, Eddie knows.

“It’s late,” she says, after they’ve watched each other over the top of an empty milkshake glass for too long. “I should go home.”

“Me too,” Eddie says, even though he doesn’t want to. Beverly stands up, so he does too.

“See you tomorrow?”

Eddie nods. That’s a given.

“Thank you,” Beverly tells him. She whispers it, so it sounds different. Like she is trying to tell him two things at once. He thinks he can hear them both. “I’m glad you came out with me today.”

“I’m glad I came,” Eddie says, because he is. He hopes he can still remember how to climb the tree in the back garden, because his bedroom window overlooks it, and it’ll be easier to go in through the window than risk waking up his mom.

Bev smiles at him, soft and serious all at once. She follows him to collect their bikes, but they go in opposite directions once they get to the road. Eddie cycles a few metres, before stopping and turning to watch Bev coast down the hill. She doesn’t look back, so Eddie waits until she’s ridden over the hill to start pedaling again.

* * *

Getting home is easy. Getting into the house is also easy. Eddie is unsettled by how easy it all is, but his mom is snoring in the chair in the lounge, so he leaves his bike leaning against the side of the wall and hauls himself through the kitchen window, because it’s always left open.

His left foot kicks out when he catches his graze on the kitchen counter, and he almost knocks a plate to the floor. His heart stops for several long seconds until he can breathe again, and he slides over to sit on the counter and calm his racing heart. His legs are still too short to actually touch the floor when he sits, and he just about hates it. 

Eddie slides his shoes off before he jumps down, holding them in his hand and dropping to the floor. His socks dull the sound of his landing, and he pads into the hallway, staring at his mom as he slips into his bedroom. She doesn’t stir throughout, and that’s just as well. She’ll wake up, sick with worry, and it’ll be a wonder if she lets him go to school tomorrow.

Eddie lines his shoes up by his bedroom door, pulling it and his blinds closed. His lungs are still shaking, but everything is okay. His mom is asleep and he is home. Beverly will be nearly home by now, and he just hopes that she manages to get in without her dad noticing.

She’s slicker than him, slippery and sly and better at sneaking around. Normally, Eddie would hate it, because it means she can tiptoe around and make him jump. But sometimes, he’s glad for it.

* * *

Tuesday dawns as grey as Monday, but less full of rain. It’s lighter. Eddie feels truly awake.

His house is quiet again, but he can hear his mom downstairs. She won’t let him out without two coats, and three multivitamins, and he hopes she doesn’t bring up where he was last night, but he knows she just will.

He takes a lot longer than he needs getting dressed. Longer than dusty orange polo shirts and non-ripped jeans take to put on. He’s avoiding his mom. He knows he is, because he’s scared, because he wants to go to school and hope Richie will be waiting for him, because he wants to wait on the wall outside for Stan or Bill or whoever is rounding them up today, because he doesn’t want to talk to his mom and he hasn’t for a long time.

Eddie breathes out cold air and makes his way into the kitchen, slowly. His mom doesn’t turn around. She has an army of pill bottles already lined up on the side for him, and Eddie doesn’t think he can swallow.

“Morning, baby,” she says, like nothing is wrong. Eddie hopes nothing is. “Are you ready for school?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Sonia Kaspbrak is not a woman Eddie wants to be on the wrong side of. “Don’t forget to take your medicines.”

“Okay, mommy,” Eddie says. Maybe this is his teenage rebellion. Staying out too late and not taking enough vitamins. 

“Good boy,” She says. “Are you leaving early today?”

“...Yeah,” Eddie says. He wants to see Richie again. “Sorry.”

“Make sure you’re home on time, then,” she tells him, a rough kind of inflection in her voice that Eddie doesn’t want to think about.

His own words shake when he says them. “Of course, mom.”

She still doesn’t turn around. Eddie doesn’t take the vitamins. Eddie leaves.

* * *

Richie’s bike is parked in a different spot to yesterday, leaving Eddie’s usual one open. He takes it, wondering if Richie moved on purpose or just by chance. He dismounts, hoping Bev will have her spare bike lock again, and heads off to the library. His heart thuds with the hope that Richie is in there.

He’s so eager to see him that he barely smiles back when Julie smiles at him. She has a plastic bottle of water instead of a thermos mug today. There’s a stack of books on the desk and Eddie eyes all of the titles in the hopes something will grab him. Nothing does.

His heart is in his throat when he turns around, waiting to see if Richie will be there. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he isn’t, nor what he’ll do if he is. Bill would say that Richie has thrown a spanner in the works. Eddie would probably agree.

He’s there. He’s sitting on the same bench as yesterday, leafing through the same book that Eddie saw him not-reading yesterday, too. Eddie finds himself sitting next to him without realising he’s actually moved.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” Richie asks. It’s a joke, but he blushes right afterwards, like he’s not used to making them.

Eddie answers honestly. “Not really. You parked your bike in a different spot today.”

“You said the one I used yesterday was yours,” Richie says.

Eddie supposes he’s right. “You remembered.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” Richie says. He looks kind of sad. Tired. 

Eddie shrugs. “Dunno. Why are you reading the same book?”

“Because it’s my favourite.”

“That doesn’t mean you read it all the time.”

“I do,” Richie shrugs. “What’s your favourite, then?”

“I don’t think I have one,” Eddie says. “Do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends today?”

Richie smiles sadly. Eddie isn’t sure why he looks sad. “Not today.”

“Where do you eat, then?” Eddie asks. 

Richie doesn’t reply, and Eddie supposes that that’s answer enough. He watches Richie fiddle with the edges of his book again, and they sit in silence until the bell goes,

* * *

Math, Art, and History are the worst subjects in the entire world for Eddie. He can’t calculate, he can’t draw, he can’t remember dates, and all of them combine to make him feel utterly stupid. Ben is lucky, because he likes History and writing, and Bill is lucky too because he’s the best drawer of the group. But Eddie is unlucky, because he’s bad at all of the subjects, except for maybe Biology because his mother’s obsession with his health has led to him spending far too much time in a doctor’s surgery, and that must pay off somehow.

It's why, when he gets to the lunch table, he flops into the seat nearest Bill and lets his head hit the table with a groan.

Bill chuckles, rubbing one of his hands down Eddie’s back. “T-t-t-ough d-day?”

His stutter is bad today. Worse than usual. He looks frazzled, and his fingers are shaking against Eddie’s spine. “I’m stupid,” Eddie says, forlornly.

Stan tuts next to Bill. “You’re not stupid.”

“How do you know?” Eddie moans. “I’m bad at every subject.”

“A-a-aca-ac-academic success i-i-isn’t th-the only muh-m-measurement of sm-smartness,” Bill says, matter-of-factly. Logically, Eddie knows this too. “Yuh-you’re r-r-really s-smart in other wuh-wuh-w-w-ways, Eddie.”

Their names are one of the few words Bill can say without stuttering. Eddie pretends like isn’t absolutely honored. “That doesn’t make me not stupid,” Eddie says. He’s being difficult.

“D-d-doesn’t muh-make you no-not smart, either,” Bill counters and Eddie can’t think of a response. 

“Did you see Richie today?” Beverly asks.

Eddie nods. “He said no to eating lunch together.”

Her face goes sour. “That’s a shame. He needs some friends. I walked past him on my way here, in the abandoned staircase by Ms. Moore’s room. I don’t know anyone who uses that staircase other than us, so I guess he thought he’d be alone,” she says. “He was smoking. He looked lonely.”

Ben makes a sympathetic face. “He must be lonely. I wish he’d sit with us. He doesn’t even have to be friends.”

“Maybe he will one day,” Eddie says. “We can’t force him.”

“Eddie’s r-ruh-r-right,” Bill says. “He-h-he’ll come wuh-when he wa-wuh-wants to.”

“I just hope it’s not too late by that point,” Beverly says, and Eddie knows exactly what she means. 

“We barely know him, anyway,” Stan says. He passes around a packet of candy he must have picked up from the newsagents by his house. Eddie refuses. “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

That’s the problem, Eddie thinks. He’s always worrying too much.

* * *

His last classes are English, Chemistry, and Gym (which he manages to get out of by claiming on his asthma, so he spends it wandering around the school and trying to stay out of sight of teachers. Eddie keeps thinking of this teenage rebellion stuff. He’s not sure what it is, but once you start, you can’t stop.

Bill seems happy enough to skip with him, so they hang out in the library for the last twenty minutes. Julie pretends not to notice, and Eddie is reminded of all the Christmas presents he probably owes her at this point.

Richie isn’t there, and Eddie doesn’t know if he should be happy or sad. He’s not sure why he was expecting Richie to be there, because Richie does in fact have lessons to attend. He doesn’t quite seem like the type to religiously go to every lesson, though. Eddie is waiting for the day when they run into somewhere that isn’t the library. He’s not sure what it is about Richie, but Eddie just can’t tear his thoughts away from him.

“Are yuh-you g-g-g-going straight home after sc-c-chool?” Bill asks. His fingers trail over the books. Eddie watches them.

He shrugs. “Probably. You?”

“Y-yeah,” Bill says. “S-s-stan wuh-w-wants to go to the qu-u-quarry at the wuh-w-wuh-weekend. If y-yuh-you’re free.”

“I’ll ask. I was out late with Bev yesterday, so I don’t know how my mom’s gonna be.” Eddie says. He swallows, his throat tightening just thinking about seeing his mom. She had seemed fine this morning, but maybe that’s just the calm before the storm. He’s tried not to think about it over the whole day, but now he can’t get it out of his head.

Bill pats his arm sympathetically. “Yuh-you’ll b-b-be okay, Eddie,” he says, and Eddie tries really quite hard to believe it.

* * *

His mom is sitting on the couch watching the door when he gets home on Tuesday. He watches her through the window for a few seconds, seriously considering climbing through his bedroom window and hiding in there for the rest of the day until she falls asleep.

He’ll have to face it at some point, he supposes. He thinks of Beverly, of how she would march in like she didn’t care (when really, she cares too much), and of Stan, how he lets his dad walk all over him but Eddie knows he’s one of the strongest people in the world. 

He pushes the door open.

“Eddie-bear? Is that you?”

“Hi, ma.”

“Eddie, come here, baby,” his mom says, “I want to ask you something.”

Eddie swallows his heart down. He moves to stand in front of her, letting her hold his cheeks and turn his face this way and that like she’s trying to see any imperfections.

“You’ve been behaving badly recently,” she says. “You didn’t take your vitamins today. You came home late yesterday. You didn’t even tell me where you’d gone, Eddie. Do you know how worried I was? You know you can’t do that.”

“I know, mommy.”

“I’m just trying to look after you, Eddie. You’re sick, baby. You need to take your medicines.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. After she says it, he feels his stomach rolling. She’s right. She’s right, he’s sick. “I’m sorry, ma.”

“I know, Eddie-bear,” she says. “You can’t do this anymore. Maybe I should take you out of school. You’re obviously too ill to go in.”

“No-! No, mom, I’m not too ill. I can go to school. I can be better.”

He’s begging. He knows he’s begging. He hates that he’s begging. He’s sick, he wants to go to sleep, but he never wants to leave school. Eddie can see the thoughts flicking through his mom’s face.

“...Okay, you can stay for now. But next time something like this happens, I’ll pull you out. I just want to keep you safe,” she says, stroking her thumb over his lip. “I just want you safe, Eddie-bear.”

Eddie tries not to flinch.

* * *

He cries, later that night. In his bed where no one can see or hear. Sonia is right.

Eddie wishes he could tell the other Losers. He wishes they knew just how sick he was. But he’s selfish, and he knows they wouldn’t want to be friends with him if they knew. He’ll have to keep it to himself.

Maybe he’ll take his vitamins to school tomorrow, along with the inhaler and the Aspirin his mom makes him keep in his bag. He’ll have to be better about it.

* * *

Wednesday is uncharacteristically warm, the sun beating down. It’s stark in comparison to the previous two days. Eddie wakes up early, dresses in a purple polo shirt and khaki shorts, packs all of his pills into his backpack, and spends five minutes eyeing his wrist brace from when he sprained his wrist when he was seven. Maybe it’s worth putting it on again. Just in case.

He decides he’s being just slightly ridiculous, and leaves forty five minutes early for school, before his mom is even awake. As he pulls the door shut, his wrist twinges, settling a deep seated anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Eddie shakes it off. The pills all rattle about in his bag. He climbs onto his bike, sets one foot on the pedal. His heart aches.

He climbs off. He’ll walk today. Just in case.

* * *

“You didn’t bike today,” Richie says, as soon as he steps foot in the library. He’s waiting by the front desk today. Richie offers him the brief chance to catch his breath, and Eddie takes it gratefully. Even if he doesn’t realise.

“No,” he says. Richie already knows. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

He’s talking more today. Eddie thinks a lot of things are changing already.

“Because,” Eddie says.

“Your backpack is rattling,” Richie points out. 

“It is.”

Richie sighs. Eddie feels his breath across his face. “Are you okay?”

Eddie doesn’t know how to answer that. “Depends who you ask.”

“I’m asking you,” Richie says. 

“Then no.”

He feels Richie pause for a second. Like he’s not quite sure what to do next. Eddie isn’t quite sure what to do next, either.

“Are you eating with your friends today?” Richie asks, finally. They’re still standing by the front desk, and Eddie’s legs are beginning to feel all fuzzy. He never really realised how tall Richie was, but there’s at least seven inches between them. Maybe more.

Eddie nods. “I always do.”

Richie hums. “Cool. Do you want to sit down?”

Eddie feels grateful a lot these days.

* * *

“You’re quiet today,” Stan says, when he meets Eddie after his third period. They walk to the lunch hall together. “What’s up?”

Eddie blanches. He knows he hasn’t really talked much, but he’s afraid of breathing in. His fingers itch for the pills in his bag. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you with the others..”

“Okay,” Stan says, because he’s easy like that, and he understands like that. Eddie follows him to the cafeteria, to their table.

Stan sinks into a chair between Ben and Bill, and Bill automatically gravitates towards him. Eddie sits on Bill’s other side. Beverly smiles at him.

“You okay, Eddie?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Do you think I’m sick?”

“What-?” Beverly frowns at him. “Why? Are you ill?”

“My mom says I am.”

“I- I don’t think you’re sick, Eddie,” Beverly says. “I think you’re perfectly healthy.”

Bill tunes in. “I-is-is it your muh-mom, Eddie?”

His stutter is better than yesterday, Eddie thinks. Just slightly. He nods.

“D-don’t listen to h-her,” Bill tells him. “She’s w-wr-wrong. I think you’re f-fine.”

They don’t know how bad it is. They don’t know how sick he is. He doesn’t open his mouth for the rest of lunch. Just in case he catches anything.

* * *

Sleep doesn’t come easy to Eddie that night. His mom hugs him tightly, and Eddie tries not to feel sick. She says she’s proud of him and thank you, Eddie-bear, for taking your medicine. Eddie doesn’t reply until she lets go, and he doesn’t say anything after she has either. She sends him off to bed, but he stays up so late he feels dizzy, thinking over everything.

Richie is at the forefront of his mind - he always is, these days. His mom is a close second, and then the Losers. He wants to know why he’s thinking of Richie so much, but he can’t bring himself to. He wishes he could call Beverly about it, or get Richie to sit with them at lunch. He just wants to know. Eddie doesn’t think he likes not knowing things.

He wonders if Richie will be at the library tomorrow. He wonders if Richie will cycle to school tomorrow. There are so many questions. He doesn’t want to wait for the answers, but he lets them lull him into sleep. Tomorrow will come soon, he tries to tell himself. He’s not sure if he listens until it actually works.

* * *

Thursday passes in a blur - he speaks barely five words to Sonia, and Richie doesn’t say anything in the library. Eddie is content to let the conversation bleed out around them, so he watches Richie fiddle with the book pages and thinks. Their classes are all entirely uneventful - except for Bill, who has a sub in his Social Studies, but the fact that that is the most exciting thing to happen to any of them, Eddie thinks, is not very exciting at all.

Bev manages to convince them all to try some of the school lasagna at lunch, which is a feat that Beverly alone could have managed. They all choke down a bite and try not to choke it back up, while Beverly laughs at them and twirls pencils around her fingers.

Eddie goes home, does his homework, calls Stan for half an hour before dinner because Stan is stuck in History - Eddie isn’t sure why he thought he would be the best person to call for academic help. Then he eats in an uncomfortable silence, trying not to look at his mom at all, and then he goes upstairs and stays there for the rest of the evening. He can’t quite decide whether he prefers ignoring his mom or having her be so overbearing he can barely stand.

Friday, however, is the most exciting day of the whole week.

Richie isn’t in the library that morning, so Eddie spends ten minutes talking to Julie and asking what kind of teas she likes, and then he sits and reads book titles for five minutes until Beverly turns up with a wide grin.

“I was wondering if I’d see you here,” she says. She pulls him into a hug, which she doesn’t normally do, but her smile looks too big so Eddie hugs her back tightly. “Is Richie in?”

Eddie shrugs. “I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’ll be here later, I don’t know.”

Her face falls for a millisecond. “Maybe. I just needed some help on my English essay. Maybe you could look it over for me?”

“Sure,” Eddie says. It’s not like the book titles need him, and Richie isn’t here right now, so he lets Beverly lead him to a computer and subsequently steal his attention for the fifteen minutes before the bell goes.

She hugs him again before they leave the library. Eddie wonders if she’ll hug all of them today. He’ll see Bill in his third lesson, so he can ask him then.

* * *

“H-hey.”

Eddie sits down with a groan. The teacher isn’t in class yet, but Eddie still feels like crying. Geography is one of his least favourites in the whole entire fucking galaxy. “Hi.”

Bill chuckles, patting his forearm sympathetically. “Don’t worry, you can copy mine. Have yuh-you seen Beverly t-today?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “And yeah. This morning. She came to the library,” he sighs, wondering if Bill knew he was going to want to talk about her too. “Why, is she okay? I mean, she seemed kind of weird but I didn’t want to push.”

“I-I think she’s j-just having a bad d-duh-day,” Bill says. “Shuh-she hasn’t told me anything, b-b-but she wouldn’t luh-let go of my hand in f-first.”

Eddie makes a considering noise. “Maybe she’ll talk to us later.”

“I h-hope so,” Bill mutters, like Eddie wasn’t supposed to hear. His voice is kind of thick with sympathy - or empathy, he’s not quite sure. Bill is remarkably good at them both.

Eddie thinks, sometimes, that they would have dated at some point. Maybe they have. He knows for sure that they’ve kissed - although that doesn’t mean much, they’ve all kissed each other at least once over the years, either for fun or experimenting. Although Beverly had kissed Ben in the way that people who are just friends don’t. “Cuh-come on. Let’s pay at-a-attention now.”

Eddie grimaces, but turns to the front obediently. When Bill decides to do something, he usually does it. Eddie probably won’t get another word out of him for the whole class now.

* * *

“C-come on,” Bill says, jerking Eddie from his Geography induced daze. “Luh-lets go to the c-c-ca-cafeteria.”

Eddie grumbles. “I hope you took notes,” he says, following Bill out of the classroom. Bill picked up his backpack for him, and he doesn’t let Eddie take it back.

“You look d-dead on your feet,” he says. “A-and yes, I tuh-took notes. I’ll show yuh-you at lunch.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He holds onto one of the backpack straps, letting Bill guide him along. He can’t tell whose bag it belongs to, but it hardly makes a difference.

“O-of course,” Bill says. “H-hey, did you invite R-ri-rich-Richie to eat with us today?”

Eddie blinks. “What? No. I haven’t seen him today. Is he there?” He peers around Bill - which is quite a feat, given Bill is carrying two backpack and bordering on six foot and Eddie is Not - to see Richie sitting with his feet kicked up on the table. “Oh.”

“O-oh?”

Eddie doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes past Bill to slide over to the table and sink into the seat next to Richie. “You weren’t here this morning.”

Richie hardly jumps. He turns to smile at Eddie. “You’ll get sick of me if you see me too much.”

“I missed you,” Eddie says, before he can even rethink the words. Richie blushes, and Eddie thinks he does too. “I-”

“You-?”

Bill dumps the bags on the table next to Eddie. “Duh-don’t run off like th-that, Eddie.”

“Sorry, Bill,” Eddie rattles off. “Richie, this is Bill.”

Richie wiggles his fingers in a wave. 

Bill nods. “Nuh-nice to meet y-you.”

“The others should be here soon,” Eddie says. “Bev has Chem in ninety three, though, so she’ll probably be here soonest.”

“That class is furthest away from the cafeteria, though,” Richie says.

Eddie just laughs. “Yeah. She’s like that.”

“Stan and Ben will g-get here together,” Bill says. “They huh-had Calc.”

“Unlucky,” Richie says. His voice gets suddenly quieter. Eddie watches his fingers twitch on top of the table.

“Stan likes m-math,” Bill says, shrugging.

Eddie makes a face at Richie. “It’s true.”

“What’s true?” Beverly asks. She adds her backpack to the growing pile on the table and pushes Richie’s feet off, sitting next to him. Richie lets her.

“Stan likes math,” Eddie says. “How was Chem?”

“Ms Nicholls is the  _ worst, _ ” She says dramatically. “Melanie H was being a cow and playing with the burners, so Jessica Brown started screaming and I was like ‘shut the fuck up,’ and she gave me a detention, and no one else.”

“Wuh-when is it?” Bill asks.

“After school Monday,” Bev replies. “So if you’re going to do something, do something I’ll hate.”

“Do you normally hang out on Mondays?” Richie asks.

“No,” Eddie says. “Just any day we want, really.”

Bill nods. “Yuh-yeah. We’re all b-bad at making plans, so it’s qu-quite spontaneous.”

“What’s spontaneous?” Ben asks, appearing at Bill’s shoulder. He eyes the backpack pile and adds his, and Eddie watches Stan’s appear on top as well. “Hi, everyone.”

“We’re spontaneous,” Bev says. “Hi, Ben.”

They smile at each other. Eddie tries not to notice.

“As much as I hate it, I agree,” Stan says. Ben takes the last available seat, and Eddie can see him considering the pros and cons of sitting straight in Bill’s lap. Bill blushes across the bridge of his nose and Stan perches himself on his knee.

Eddie laughs. Stan’s face floods with heat.

“Sh-shut up,” Bill manages to stammer out, but by then it’s too late because all of them except Ben - because Ben is too kind to laugh - are giggling loud enough to drown out anything else.

“I’m happy for you both,” Ben says, all earnest and sincere. Bill blushes even harder.

“Thanks, Ben,” Stan says. He’s obviously trying to look composed, but Eddie doesn’t think it’s working out for him, so they just laugh harder.

* * *

“So,” Eddie says expectantly, leaning against the bike shed. Bill is unlocking his bike, looking solemn. They’re always the last to leave on Fridays, he and Bill. He’s not sure why - it’s just a thing that happened somewhere along the line, but really, Eddie likes the few minutes he gets alone with Bill every week. 

“So?”

Eddie smiles under his breath, pulling his bike out too. “You and Stan? When did that happen?”

Bill blushes, avoiding his eyes. “Last month some time.”

“I can’t believe you managed to keep it from us for so long,” Eddie says. They start wheeling their bikes towards the gates.

“Buh-believe me, it was huh-h-hard,” Bill says. “I wuh-was convinced Beverly kn-knew the day a-after we g-got together.”

Eddie giggles. “I wouldn’t be surprised, really. I guess we all sort of knew. I mean, you weren’t exactly  _ subtle _ , but I don’t think any of us were actually expecting it.”

“I wuh-w-wasn’t expecting it either,” Bill admits. “M-me and Stan had talked about t-tuh-telling you all, but it was k-kind of nice just having s-something that was just ours f-for a bit.”

“Mm,” Eddie rolls his front wheel off of the curb. “I don’t think either of you would have been able to keep it from us for much longer. Not without us realising.”

Bill chuckles.

Eddie turns to him, smiling. “Hey, don’t laugh. We’re smarter than you give us credit for.”

“I-if you say so, Eddie,” Bill says, but Eddie can hear his smile too, hidden beneath his words. “I’ll s-see you tuh-t-tomorrow?”

He nods. “Yeah, hopefully. Bye, Bill.”

Bill waves, pushing off on his bike. Eddie watches him ride off. He’s kind of hit with the realisation that, actually, a lot of things are changing already. He’s not sure how exactly he feels about it. 

Really, Bill and Stan were always an inevitability. Eddie doesn’t think he’s surprised about that. But it doesn’t stop the feeling that everything has, all of a sudden, flipped upside down. It’s disorientating, he thinks, but he can’t quite pinpoint why, because everything is still close enough to the same that he can’t quite identify why it feels so different.

Perhaps like everything has been pushed three inches to the left. Similar enough to hardly be noticeable, but just so different that he keeps stubbing his toe on the coffee table. 

Eddie swallows, climbing onto his bike. He needs to be home soon - Saturdays are the designated hang out days, and his mother won’t let him out tomorrow if he’s home late, and he doesn’t doubt that she’ll be horribly reluctant to let him out anyway. He doesn’t particularly want to miss out on it.

* * *

She doesn’t talk to him when he gets in.

The silence unnerves him - it’s a cold silence, icy and uncomfortable. A bad silence, the really not very good kind, where every breath weighs heavily on his shoulders and his heart pumps in and out of time like it can’t decide quite where it’s supposed to be.

Eddie hates this, hates this rod burning itself into his heart like it has no other place to go, like it has always belonged there. Hates the wedge it’s driving between him and his mother, hates the putrid air that permeates his room, like arsenic, like soured lies and nothing he ever wants to breathe in again.

She barely even turns to look. Eddie walks straight past - he refuses to give her the satisfaction of knowing she is under his skin - but she doesn’t seem to care. 

“Mom,” he says, before he can leave the room completely. “I’m going out with my friends tomorrow.”

She doesn’t reply. She’s ignoring him. This is his teenage rebellion.

* * *

Stan wakes him up the next morning by throwing rocks at his bedroom window like they’re in some coming of age teen rom-com. He’s wearing some ugly button up, one Eddie hasn’t seen before and would rather not see ever again if he has any say in the matter. 

He yanks open his window to glare at Stan. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“We’re going to the Quarry!” Stan yells, “Come on!”

“Right now?!”

“Yes, right now. Everyone’s waiting for us!”

“Fine!” Eddie shouts. He sticks his middle finger out the window before pulling it shut to Stan’s laughter. 

He dresses quickly, pulling on khaki shorts and a cotton tee as well as his backpack. He eyes the pill bottle sitting on his dresser with disdain. Sonia isn’t listening to him so he won’t listen to her. His fingers twitch.

Teenage rebellion. That’s all it is. 

He balls his fists. Stan is waiting outside, and Stan won’t care whether he has or hasn’t taken his vitamins. 

Eddie decides he won’t care either. Not today.

* * *

The Quarry became the unofficial, official place to Be some time last year, Eddie thinks. When the summer was stupidly hot and Bill was tired of going to the arcade, Beverly had suggested the Quarry. Ben had readily agreed and that usually means the rest of them will, too.

They had spent the majority of that summer pruning in the water until it got too cold, too late in the evenings to bear. Eddie can’t get the thought of how quickly things have changed out of his head. 

Bill and Beverly are already in the water when he and Stan arrive. Ben and Mike are sitting on clifftop, watching without speaking. Mike waves when Eddie dumps his bike a little ways behind them, along with the others, but he still doesn’t say anything.

Eddie sits between Mike and Ben. Talking feels like too much work today, like it’ll break whatever peace they have accumulated, and Eddie isn’t ready to do that yet. He watches them sit in silence, instead. A good silence.

Stan disappears into the water soon enough, and Eddie isn’t surprised to see Bill automatically swim towards him. Mike turns to him, eyebrows raised, and Eddie just shrugs with a look that says ‘it’s not like we didn’t see this coming’. Mike makes a face back, one that seems to say ‘okay, true’.

Sometimes he forgets that Mike isn’t always there with them, because he fits in so seamlessly when he is there that it’s like he was never gone. 

“So when did Bill and Stan happen?” Mike asks, kind of under his breath but mostly not.

“Like, a month ago,” Eddie says, because now it feels okay to speak. “That’s what Bill told me, anyway. It was kinda like fate, though, isn’t it?.”

“Mm,” Mike says. Eddie knows he’s agreeing. “They work well. I feel like I always miss out on everything with you guys.”

Ben chuckles. “I’m there all the time and I feel like it too, Mike.”

“Not much goes on,” Eddie says. “Nothing interesting, anyway.”

“Then what’s all the uninteresting stuff that happens?” Mike asks. “I want to know. You guys are my friends.”

Eddie makes a face. “I failed my algebra test, Beverly got a detention-”

“Eddie met a guy,” Ben says. He’s grinning, but his cheeks are kind of red in a way that makes him look young and almost heartachingly different.

“I did not!”

Mike straightens up, eyes twinkling. “Spill. Y’all are all getting hitched without me, huh?”

“We’re not getting hitched-!” Eddie sputters.

“Richie Tozier,” Ben says, triumphantly. “He’s kind of new. Eddie’s been meeting him every day in the library before school, and yesterday he sat with us at lunch.”

“We’re just friends,” Eddie says. It’s a losing battle, he knows, but it’s one that he’s not sure if its his heart or his friends that he’s fighting. 

“Are you?” Mike asks.

Eddie feels his cheeks flush with heat. “I mean… I guess he’s kinda cute.”

“He’s like, taller than Bill, as well,” Ben adds.

“Height doesn’t make a difference,” Eddie says. He exhales heavily. “But he is tall.”

Mike laughs. “Everyone is taller than Eddie.”

Eddie grumbles, “yeah, okay, Mike. You’re not that much taller than me.”

“Two inches makes all the difference,” Mike declares. “5’6 isn’t  _ that  _ short, Eddie. You don’t need to worry.”

Eddie shoves him. “Yeah, shut up, Mike.”

“He’s got a point, Eddie,” Ben says. “5’6 isn’t  _ short- _ short.”

“It works better when it sounds like you believe what you’re saying, Ben,” Eddie says, poking the toe of his shoe into Ben’s shin. He’s not that bothered. It’s a long standing fact that he is short, and the others aren’t. Their jokes are just jokes.

Ben laughs. “Yeah, okay. Are you going in?”

“Into the water?” Mike asks. He shrugs. “Maybe. Bill said it was cold, though, so maybe not.”

“How cold?” Eddie asks. He curls his fingers through the weeds growing up through the ground - dry and dusty where the sun has hit it.

“Jump in and find out,” Ben says. “Stan, Bill, and Bev must think it’s alright. They’ve been in there a while already.”

Eddie hums. It feels sort of like he’s just entertaining childlike ideals, like pruning in the too cold water is just something that they don’t do anymore, and to do it would be to challenge everything he isn’t supposed to be doing. Maybe he can allow himself this one.

He stands up, pulling off his t-shirt. Ben and Mike don’t say anything, but he can feel their eyes on his back. It feels like a bigger, more monumental decision than it actually is. 

Somehow, he wishes Richie were here too.

The water is cold, colder than he expected, but it hits his stomach like a breath of fresh air and Bev cheers loudly. Her grin drips down her chin. Eddie smiles back, paddling his legs to stay above water. Bill is lucky - he can reach the bottom and just about stand. Stan can, too, if he goes on tippy-toes.

“Took you long enough,” Beverly says. She swims over to him, looping her fingers around his wrists. “It’s not that cold, right?”

Eddie makes a face at her. “Fucking freezing, Bev.”

Bill laughs. Stan’s got his arms around his neck, smiling like he’s trying not to be seen. “You’ll get used to it, Eddie. You just have no body fat.”

“I have plenty of body fat,” Eddie says. “I have so much body fat.”

“Sure, Eddie,” Stan says, and Eddie can hear the happiness spilling out of his words, splitting at the seams. “Maybe if you keep saying it.”

Bev giggles, pinching his cheek. “Just start swimming around. You’ll warm up soon.”

Eddie sighs, blowing ripples across the water's surface, but does what she says. He knows she has a point. Maybe his slow breaststroke will encourage her to join in, instead of splashing wildly and playing some kind of made up version of Marco Polo with Stan and Bill.

He doubts it will. But it’s nice to hear them laughing all the same, so he can’t complain, really.

* * *

It’s not until later, much later, after they’ve all climbed out of the water and dripped all of their drops off, that Eddie is hit with the resounding thought that today felt freer than all the other times that they came out to the Quarry, and once he’s thought of it, he can’t quite bring himself to stop thinking it, and he has less of a problem with that than he thought. 

Bev nudges him, shoulder to shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?” She asks, something Eddie thinks she’s picked up from the TV, or her books, but it sounds right in her mouth anyway.

Eddie shrugs. “Just thinking.”

“Tell me.”

“Everything feels different,” he says. “It’s not the same as last summer.”

“Of course it’s not, we’ve all changed,” Bev says. Eddie cuts her off.

“No, not just that. My mom and I aren’t really speaking any more. And I met Richie. Stan and Bill happened-”

“We always knew it would.”

“-Everything is different. We’re older. We’re looking at the world through different eyes,” Eddie finishes. “It feels weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Beverly says. “It’s only as weird as you make it.”

“That’s a nice sentiment,” he says.

Beverly hums, letting the silence run on without them for a minute. Eddie can hear Bill and Stan giggling to each other. “Why aren’t you and your mom talking as much?” She asks, eventually, in the way that she does when she doesn’t want to force them but knows they’ll tell her anyway.

Eddie thinks she’s rather good at that. It works, because he opens his mouth to breathe in and ends up talking. “I’m not sure. Since we went to the Arcade, really. I haven’t been taking all of the pills as much, and I guess it’s driven a rift between us. Her attitude towards me changes a lot.”

“Is that why you asked if we thought you were sick?” Beverly asks. Eddie is reminded once again of how little she misses. He nods.

“I guess, yeah. It’s confusing. I can’t tell if she hates me, loves me, or just doesn’t care anymore,” he admits.

Bev’s fingers rest a heavy weight on his knee. “Which would you prefer?”

He’s truly not sure, so he tells her so. Her eyes flood with understanding.

“Yeah. You know you’re not sick, right?” she asks, like it’s serious. Eddie sits up, straighter. “Because you’re not. She worries too much, and you’re perfectly healthy.”

“I know, now,” Eddie says, scuffing the ground with his foot. “I just hate that it took me so long to realise. And I hate that I still feel like I should be taking all the medications, even though it won’t do anything.”

“It’s ‘cause you love her,” Bev says matter-of-factly. “And you’ll probably always love her. Even if she’s hurt you. Because she has, hasn’t she? Maybe without meaning to, but it’s all sort of the same.”

She’s wise beyond her years. Eddie thinks, sometimes, that her words don’t belong to her, even though they’re from her mouth. He leans his head onto her shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You’ll want to take them because you’ve taken them for so long now,” Bev continues. “They’ll be like a comfort thing now, but they won’t do anything. Because they’re familiar, they’re like a crutch, and it’ll be hard to identify the difference between the good things about it and the bad things.”

“God,” Eddie says. “How did you get so wise?”

“We’re growing up, Eds,” she says. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Right about what?”

“Everything is changing,” Beverly says. There isn’t much else that Eddie could say to that, really, so he lets her hair tickle his forehead and watches Stan and Bill try to cuddle without making it obvious and tries to ignore Ben staring at Beverly.

Mike stares out onto the water, so Eddie looks too, trying to see what Mike is. He suspects that’s impossible. If Bev doesn’t miss a trick, then neither does Mike. Eddie is sure he can see right to Middle Earth, or something as equally as ridiculous. Leaning against Bev, he feels warm - a harsh combative to the early evening wind. Even his heart feels it, and Eddie can’t pinpoint a downside to that.

* * *

They leave eventually. The wind gets too harsh, Eddie’s fingers start to shake and Bev’s lips turn blue. Ben wraps her in his hoodie, and Eddie watches them hold hands for just a bit too long. Mike nudges Eddie, curling their fingers together.

“You okay?” He asks, and Eddie can’t do anything but nod, because maybe he really, truly is.

“We’re going,” Stan announces, loud in the silence. “We’ll see you on Monday?”

Bev nods. “You better.” Ben’s hoodie completely swamps her, but it looks like it belongs there, on her.

Bill smiles at them, soft and moonlit - tired, following Stan to their bikes and down the track. Eddie listens to their conversation fade out until it sits at the back of his heart in a warm solid lump. 

“I should go too,” Mike says, quietly. “I’ll see y’all next week?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dropping Mike’s hand. He hates that he stays on the farm, Eddie would give anything to have Mike in school with them. “I’m going too. Bye, guys.” He picks his bike up next to Mike’s, wheeling them down the footway. Ben and Bev stay behind, whispering out cold air. Mike doesn’t say anything, but Eddie can feel the questions rolling off of him.

“I’ll see him tomorrow,” Eddie says in answer.

Mike hums like he doesn’t know what Eddie’s talking about. “Who?”

“You know who. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

Mike nods. “Yeah.” Richie goes unsaid. “You should invite him to the Quarry next week.”

“I don’t think he’d come,” Eddie says. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ll ask him, as long as you promise not to interrogate him or anything.”

He chuckles. “No interrogations. Got it. Just let him know he’s welcome any time, yeah? He’s probably lonely.”

Eddie nods. They get to the main road. “Probably. I’ll see you next week, Mike.”

“Bye, Eddie,” Mike says. He sounds sad when he says it, like he’s preparing himself for the last time he’ll ever see them again.

“Bye,” Eddie says. He pushes his bike into the road, climbing onto the saddle and pushing off with his feet. He doesn’t look back, not today.

* * *

His mom is quiet when he gets home, and she stays quiet all the way until the end of Sunday, just when Eddie’s heart is jumping out of his chest.

“Eddie-bear?” She calls. Eddie registers a deeper, darker, note to her voice; one that he’d rather have not noticed at all. “Come here, please.”

“Coming, mommy,” Eddie calls back. He stands from his bed. Something feels undeniably, disgustingly wrong. There are wrinkles on the shoulder of his t-shirt and it feels like the Earth’s centre of gravity has tipped.

She doesn’t say anything until he’s stood in front of her, but her face falls very slightly. He watches her throat move when she swallows. “Eddie.”

“Yes, ma?”

“I want you to stop going to see your friends,” she says and Eddie’s heart falls. “I want you to go to school, and come straight up. You’ll do your homework, take your medicines, and be safe. I’ve been too generous to you, Eddie, and you’ve been taking advantage of it. I’m disappointed in you.”

“But-”

“You know I only do this because I care about you, right, Eddie?” she says, talking over him. Her voice wavers and Eddie’s stomach turns. He’s well accustomed to Sonia’s crocodile tears at this point, but that doesn’t mean he likes to see them. “I worry about you. Those friends of yours are a bad influence.”

“Ma, you can’t,” Eddie says. His eyes fill with tears, real and genuine in a horrible contrast to Sonia’s caricature. “You can’t.”

“I do it because I love you,” She says, “Don’t you understand? Don’t you love me, too?”

“Mommy, I-”

“Don’t you love me, Eddie?” She repeats. Her tears start to fall, and Eddie hates listening to her lungs heaving.

“Stop it,” he gasps. His own lungs struggle to breath in a horrible mirror. “Stop it, mom!” He doesn’t want to be here.

Somehow, he finds himself upstairs, shoving a sweater that looks like Bill’s over his t-shirt and stuffing school books and underwear into his backpack. He’ll go to Beverly’s, or Stan’s, or he’ll sleep on the bench outside of the arcade. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” His mom shouts. She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, voice warbled and shaky. “Come back here, don’t you care about me?”

“I’m leaving, ma!” Eddie shouts through his own tears. His fingers scrabble at his window, pulling it open wide. 

“Eddie!”

He pulls his backpack across his back, swallows heavily and drags his hand over his eyes.

“Eddie, come back here!”

He puts one leg out of the window. It’s not so far to jump, and it’s not like he’s never jumped it before. The first time, he broke his collarbone (and he wasn’t allowed out for two months after it healed), but all the other times he learnt how to land properly.

“Eddie!”

“Ma, I’m sorry!” He shouts, and then he falls for four seconds. His knees buckle into the dewy grass, and his lungs scream. He can hear his mom crying behind him, fumbling with the door lock in her franticness, but he doesn’t wait around to see if she can get it open in time.

He forces himself to stand, pushes his legs down the road and around the corner until her screaming is just an x-ray print on the inside of his brain.

* * *

Eddie learns very fast that the night gets cold, and gets cold quickly. And lonely. The stars are as lonely as he is. There are very few people out, just the ones who look half dead and Eddie wouldn’t trust them as far as he could throw them. 

The diner is still open, so he goes there. At least it’ll be warm, and Jo who works the night shifts is pretty easy to bribe for free coffee - so says Beverly. Eddie thinks Beverly could get anything she ever wanted if she tried hard enough, so he takes it with a grain or two of salt. 

It’s empty-ish when he pushes open the door. There’s an old man sitting at the table in the corner, swirling sugar into coffee like he’s forgotten how much is already in there. Eddie eyes the empty sugar packets lying on the table next to him in distaste.

Jo looks up when he enters. Her eyebrows furrow, but her eyes don’t question. “Rough night?”

Eddie nods. “You could say that.”

“Go sit down,” she says. “I’ll bring coffee over in a sec.”

“I don’t have money,” Eddie says, fingers scrabbling in his pocket for what he already knows isn’t there. 

“On the house,” and maybe Bev is right.

Eddie makes his way to a table with two seats, near a window. He can barely see it out of it, barely see past the curtain of condensation. He zones out, letting his mind drift far enough that he barely registers Jo sliding a mug of coffee towards him.

“Eddie?”

His brain restarts all of a sudden. “Richie?”

Richie blinks in front of him, pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb. “What are you doing out here?”

“What are  _ you  _ doing out here?”

“I asked you first,” Richie says, pulling the opposite chair out and sitting in it. His legs are so horrendously long (Eddie tries really hard to ignore it) that his knees knock into Eddie’s. Eddie tries not to think about how his feet only just about reach the floor.

“I dunno. I had a fight with my m- Sonia.”

“With your muh-Sonia?”

“My mom,” Eddie says. His cheeks flush and he pretends not to notice.

Richie’s eyes squint. “Oh. Sorry. I’m out ‘cause I’m bored.”

“You don’t have to apologise. It’s not your fault,” Eddie says. He watches Richie’s hand reach out and curl around his coffee cup, lifting it to take a sip.

He thinks Richie looks beautiful like this, right now. Everything feels so entirely different that he doesn’t even bother to cut the thought train off, but his hair is loose and dark and that sort of effortlessly wavy. Richie’s eyes are tired behind his glasses, dark circles cutting deep, but he doesn’t look sleepy. He looks like he belongs in greasy diners in the early mornings, and Eddie would like to think he belongs with him.

“I’m still sorry,” Richie says. “Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?” His fingers tap a tune out on the tabletop like they can’t stay still.

Eddie shrugs. “I was gonna try ‘round Bev’s. Beverly’s.”

“How far is that?”

“Dunno. Fifteen minutes on my bike.”

“Do you have your bike?”

He shakes his head.

“So twenty five minutes walking, thereabouts,” Richie says. “You could stay at mine.”

Eddie thinks this is the most words they’ve ever spoken to each other so far. This is the most personal they’ve ever been with each other. He’s seeing Richie right now and already dreading seeing him tomorrow.

“Where do you live?” He asks, trying not to think about the implications of that invite - if there even are any. He feels entirely out of his depth.

“Not far,” Richie says. “You can sneak in through my window. My mom probably won’t notice, but if she does, she won’t mind.”

“Won’t she?”

“Not at all. She’s kinda chill,” Richie shrugs. “She’ll probably invite you to stay all the time.”

“What about your dad?” Eddie asks.

“He won’t care. He doesn’t really care about anything except his work,” Richie explains. “It’ll be fine.”

The air tastes different when they’re in diners at night. Eddie can’t tell if he likes it or not.

“Are you sure?” he asks. Richie’s feet reach out to knock against his.

“Definitely. You can’t spend the night out here.”

Eddie thinks maybe this is Richie - the real Richie, not the almost invisible mask he puts on for school, the one that is enough of him that no one else can tell.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

Richie smiles at him. “Do you wanna talk about her? Your mom?”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s a long story. And kind of stupid.”

“Bet it’s not,” Richie says. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll… tell you later,” Eddie says, a promise to both Richie and himself. The Losers know some but not all, and maybe he needs to tell someone. Talking to Richie feels easier than breathing; Eddie couldn’t think of anyone better.

“Okay,” Richie says, like it’s not a big deal. “Let me know when you’ve finished that monstrosity of a coffee and we can go.”

“Monstrosity?!”

“Yeah! How much creamer did you put in there?”

Eddie blushes again. “Not that much! I don’t like strong coffee, is all.”

Richie’s smile is wide and carefree. Eddie thinks he could look at it all day.

**Author's Note:**

> so i started this like several months ago and havent written anything for the it fandom in a while, but i finally got around to somewhat finishing it - there are still several loose ends that could be tied up but i dont know if ill ever get around to it. who knows! we'll see what happens.
> 
> as it stands, there are things i would change when rereading & editing it now, but also... 11k... and i cant be bothered to make too many changes. hope u dont mind lmao. 
> 
> would love to know what you think! hope ur well xxx


End file.
